Unwanted Adventure

January 28th?

We’ve officially crossed the Taranian border into the wild lands. There’s been little sign of habitation, but the roads here look well traveled despite the supposed threat of barbarians attacking from any direction. The vegetation here is thicker, the ground less rocky than before. We’ve been passing through the fringes of what seems to be a great forest, ancient I would say. Most of the trees are relatively young, but every once in a while we’ll pass a tree that rivals the giant redwoods back home.

The past couple weeks I’ve been trying to get information out of Sasha. I’m becoming convinced that her secrets are the result of some deep-seated trauma; whatever it is, it‘s something bad. She almost went catatonic when I pushed her too far yesterday. Jake was so mad he sucker-punched me, knocked me flat on my ass; I was so shocked I just watched him lead Sasha away. My jaw is still sore; I‘m not mad at him though, as he had a right to what he did. I crossed the line, and Jake was the one to put me back in my place. If not him, then it would have been Nicole, and honestly, I prefer getting the shit knocked out of me to having Nicole angry with me.

After Jake had cooled down I asked him if he’d question Sasha about that sage we’d heard about. He looked at me like I was crazy until I told him I didn’t intend to find the sage until I knew Sasha was safe; he found it turns out what we had heard before was misleading. The sage was real enough; he just hasn’t been seen in over two hundred years. The area around his home is heavily wooded and always under a heavy fog regardless of the weather, and rumored to be populated by all kinds of bizarre creatures; naturally, the superstitious ones among the local people came up with stories.

Living or not, I intend to find where this sage lived, either to find him or something we can use to get ourselves home. Be it some magical artifact or even just some notes on dimensional travel, even a small foothold is better than nothing at all. We might have more pressing issues to deal with at the moment, but we WILL survive to find our way home, no matter who’s after us.

Survival First.


“Why do you and your friends call him ‘Dungeon Master’?” Sasha asked Jake, watching HC scribe down another entry in his journal. They had made camp in a hollow and built a fire to drive away the slight chill that came on as night fell. Starlight flickered through sporadic breaks in the canopy, almost like they were reaching out to the light of their small fire but could never reach.

“Back home we were all players in a game,” Jake replied after a moment of thought. “In this game, an adventure was planned, and players like myself would take part to hone our skills and amuse ourselves. My brother was one of those few who coordinated such adventures. He was the one who thought up the stories behind our adventures, the one who directed the enemies we fought against and controlled the monsters we killed.”

“You participated in such a barbaric thing?!” Sasha exclaimed, pulling back from Jake in revulsion.

“Whoa! Hey!” Jake said quickly. “It’s not what you think! None of it was real!”

“What? Are you saying it was all some sort of illusion?” Sasha asked doubtfully.

“In a matter of speaking, yes,” Jake explained. “The people and creatures we fought and killed weren’t real, and neither was the danger we faced. That didn’t stop my brother from doing his best to kill us.”

“He always tried to kill you?”

Jake laughed. “Of course.” Sasha stared at him in wide-eyed disbelief, and Jake laughed even harder. “It’s his duty as a DM,” Jake explained. “He is required to provide us with challenging puzzles and encounters, and in turn we accept that during the game we are subject to his whims.”

“What sort of creatures do you fight in these games?” Sasha asked, curious about this hobby. “What have you had to do in your games?”

“It depends on the adventure,” Jake said, shifting positions against a fallen tree. “We’ve faced our share of weak and powerful creatures. Demons, devils, all manner of evil creatures. We’ve fought against any number of ferocious beasts as well.”

“What about gryphons? Goblins? Werewolves?”

“Goblins I’ve seen too many of, and I’ve had to wield silver weapons once or twice. And truth be told,” Jake said, leaning closer to Sasha, “Aaron was turned into a gryphon for a while. We were trying to get him back to human form at the time, and got a little messed up.”

“He was something else before?” Sasha giggled.

“A bear. To tell the truth he didn’t really mind the gryphon shape,” Jake said with a smile. Sasha laughed at the absurdity of what Jake was telling her, then gasped and laughed harder when she realized he was telling the truth.

“I think I would like to try this game of yours,” Sasha said.

“So long as you don’t mind facing a dragon or two,” Jake said, looking over at HC. “My brother likes to throw dragons at us when we beat his challenges too easily.” He turned back to Sasha and was surprised by the look of fear on her face. Jake started to remind her there was no danger before he realized she was staring at something behind him; turning to look he found himself staring at the point of an arrow, ready to fire.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered.

The entire camp was surrounded by warriors dressed in hide and painted with some sort of tribal markings. At least twenty men and women had arrows trained on the group, and the warriors moved only to admit a man who obviously was their leader past their ranks. All of the warriors had deeply tanned skin and dark hair, but this man reminded HC of the great Native American war chiefs. Feathers and beads had been strung in his long dark hair, and he carried himself with an authority HC had only seen in high ranking officers in the military back home. The teeth and claws of what HC guessed must have been a bear were on a necklace around the man’s neck, and a cloak of wolf hide was draped over his shoulders.

The chief looked at HC briefly, as if recognizing him as the leader, then began to cast his gaze over each member of the group in turn. When he looked at Aaron, the chief barked something in a language the group didn’t understand. Aaron, however, found he understood the chief perfectly, and responded in turn. HC watched with slight confusion as the chief and Aaron exchanged words, until finally the chief barked an order and the archers lowered their arrows. “His name translates as Silent Fang; he’s a war shaman of the Wolf Clan,” Aaron explained to HC. “I’ve explained why we’re here; he says that the Wolf Clan is no friend of the Crown Prince but they are definitely enemies of the current Taranian regime.”

“So what’s that make us?” HC asked. “Why’d he lock onto you?”

“He’s mistaken me as a member of the Bear Clan,” Aaron said, “an ally of the Wolf Clan before Taranian troops slaughtered the Bear Clan’s forces and scattered the few survivors. I told him we’re being chased by Taranian troops; he’s invited us to join them as guests of the Wolf Clan for a special ceremony tonight.”

“Let me guess: You accepted.”

Aaron shrugged. “His warriors were pointing arrows at us. I didn’t think it prudent to refuse such a kind offer.”

“Guess not,” HC said.

Silent Fang gestured to his warriors and they melted into the background as if they had never been there. Motioning for HC and the others to follow, the shaman stalked off into the forest, forcing his guests to scramble for their gear in order to avoid being left behind. HC couldn’t help but notice that Aaron seemed to be comfortable with the way things were going, comfortable with the role he was assuming. For a kid who had so much potential, he had never found his place in the world. HC didn’t know whether to be relieved that Aaron might have found his niche or worried because Aaron might not want to go home.

They walked for what seemed like hours, their pace slow but never stopping. When they finally arrived at their destination, every one of them was overcome with awe. The forest gave way to an enormous depression, in which was built a circle of stones more impressive than a hundred Stonehenges, among which flickered an eerie ethereal light that had no apparent source. The circle was composed of five concentric rings, each ring composed of a different type and shape of stone; in the center burned a great bonfire, around which were hundreds of barbarian warriors all packed as closely together as possible while leaving the main path of entry into the circle clear. Silent Fang stopped at the edge of the innermost ring, motioning them forward; Aaron took the lead, with HC taking up the rear.

Drums beat and the haunting sound of pan-pipes floated through the air, a sound that seemed to crawl over them like the rising waters of an ocean tide. Behind them Silent Fang began a mournful yet strangely energizing song, and one by one the people of the Wolf took up the song as well. The light of the stones brightened and began flickering wildly, while the bonfire in the cent seemed to reach higher and higher as the song reached a crescendo. Without warning the barbarians halted their music and singing, and the great bonfire snuffed out as if it were a candle caught in the raging winds of a hurricane. The flickering light of the stones poured towards the space once occupied by the bonfire, leaving the circle of stones as black as pitch and coalescing into the form of a wolf larger than a Clydesdale, its silver-white fur reflecting the light of the stars and moon and glowing with a light of its own.

Be welcome here, My People, came a voice that was both a booming shout and an almost silent whisper.

The barbarians all fell to their knees in supplication, and HC and his friends were all stricken with awe. The wolf-being sat back on its haunches and looked about at the people gathered before it, a slow appraising look that eventually settled upon Aaron.

Warrior, it called. Come to me.

Unable to help himself, Aaron began walking towards the wolf, the gathered barbarians looking up in wonder at the man who had attracted the interest of their strange deity. Aaron stopped several feet away from the wolf-being, staring up into eyes as deep as the blackness between the stars. The wolf-being’s head lowered and began to gently smell Aaron, then it returned to its previous pose.

Welcome to this world, warrior. You have the scent of great destiny about you, but in a way it is not yours alone. I must confer with my brothers, but I believe you will be the one we have awaited for so long. Your destiny is intertwined with that of your pack mates, though their own destinies lie in different directions from your own. Follow them to find the keys to your own path. Bear my gift, warrior, and let my strength be yours.

The wolf lunged, its jaws snapping down around Aaron’s torso as the wolf-being exploded in a blinding flash of light. When those gathered around finally regained their sight, the faerie light of the rings had returned and Aaron had collapsed to his knees, leaning on a spear that shone like silver in the moonlight. The assembled Wolf Clan stood in amazement, gazing upon Aaron as if he were the wolf-being in human form. Silent Fang and five others in similar garb approached Aaron and fell to the ground in front of him, supplicating themselves before him and chanting in their native tongue.

“Care to tell me what the hell all that was about?” Larisse asked.

Aaron tried in vain to get the war shamans to stop their strange worship, then looked at his friends helplessly. “They think I’m some sort of messiah,” he said sheepishly. “They keep calling me ‘The Jaws of the Wolf’, and ‘Wolf’s Bite’. They think I’m some legendary warrior come to unite the tribes into one again.”

“Of course you are,” HC said, rolling his eyes. “This is almost cliché. Can you get them to help us?”

“I’ll try.” Aaron barked several commands, and the shamans stood and rushed into the crowd of assembled warriors, shouting orders of their own. “Okay, that worked. They’re arranging for us to be taken to the lands of the Hawk Clan, who have allied themselves with the Crown Prince. From there we should be able to get Sasha to safety and then be off on our way.”

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“What do you mean they escaped you?!”

A bottle of wine smashed against the wall a foot from Harmon’s head, but he didn’t even flinch. Harmon knew Kraiv homed in on weakness, sought to destroy all around him that he perceived as weak; there had been times in Harmon’s long career under Kraiv where he had seen officers killed slowly because they had shown fear in the general‘s presence. Harmon had even carried out the sentence on one or two of those. Kraiv’s anger did not frighten Harmon, and the general was well aware of that. But this was the first time Harmon had ever failed. Though Kraiv was inches below Harmon’s shoulder and barely weighed half as much, Harmon knew too well the strength and skill hidden by Kraiv’s small stature and graying hair.

Kraiv seethed with anger and stared out the window at the troops drilling in the keep’s courtyard, eyes as black as coal watching the soldiers hack training dummies into kindling. As the commander of the entirety of Tarania’s military, Kraiv could have had any quarters he wished, any mansion in the kingdom, but being a man of both practical and Spartan tastes he chose Vyduin Keep as his personal abode; the keep had stood for almost a thousand years, and was the most defensible outpost in Tarania should enemies attack thanks to its vantage point atop a tall hill and a deep well in the keep’s dungeons to provide fresh water to the troops within.

“I have invested far too much in this venture to let some ragtag band of adventurers ruin everything!” Kraiv snarled. “If this plan is leaked to either side then all my planning goes to waste!”

“I have men scouring the wild lands for them, sir,” Harmon replied. “They will not escape a second time.”

“You have never failed me before, Harmon,” Kraiv said, turning back from the window, the fiery rage in his eyes belying the cool tone to his voice. “I should think it a matter of pride, if nothing else, that you do everything in your power to make sure they do no escape again. But I refuse to take any chances in this matter. Set ‘Him’ on their trail.”

“Darkhen?!” Harmon spat the name with disgust, as if the very mention left a bad taste in his mouth. “My lord, he is a madman! There is no need to involve him; I have everything under control!”

“If you had everything under control my daughter would have been recovered and her companions left by the road for the vultures!!” Kraiv screamed, his composure fleeing. “Loose the Hound of Death!”

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The room was pitch black, a cold, windowless cell that stank of mildew. In the darkness a rat skittered across the floor blindly; the eyes that watched it saw perfectly. The rat squeaked in surprise and pain as a hand silently shot out and snatched it from the floor. The eyes watched in rapture as the strong fingers slowly crushed the life from the rat. The fingers continued to squeeze until the rat’s skin burst like overripe fruit, spilling blood and gore over the grasping hand. The ruins of the rat fell to the ground, the gory fingers coming up to a mouth in the darkness, a tongue licking the blood away and relishing the taste of stolen life; it wasn’t long before the killing hand was clean.

A door opened, spilling light onto bloodstained teeth filed into sharp points. Darkhen blinked in the light and smiled wide. The only time that door opened was when he was being sent to kill, and Darkhen lived to bring death…

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Deep in the wild lands, far from HC and his friends and farther from the schemes of General Kraiv or the madman called Darkhen, something stirred beneath the earth.

The rumblings were faint at first, not enough to even disturb the birds nested directly above, but they grew steadily stronger until trees were uprooted and the earth began to crack and crumble. Like an arrow punching through a straw target, a massive shape burst from the earth and took to the sky; the moon was briefly shadowed by enormous bat-like wings, and then the creature was lost behind the clouds.

From their camp nearby, the secretive Dragon Clan watched the spectacle in the sky and collectively shuddered. Guardians of an ancient secret, it was their sworn duty to protect the lore of the ages and note the fulfillment of ancient prophecies. The sign they witnessed sent a chill throughout them all, as it foretold of dark times ahead, to which there might be no end.